


To forget, even for a few minutes

by Yeneffer



Series: Household Of The Supersoldiers [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Drug Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Steve Needs a Hug, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 09:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeneffer/pseuds/Yeneffer
Summary: Too many things done, too few people rescued.Sometimes they just want to forget.





	To forget, even for a few minutes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueSimplicity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSimplicity/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Hunt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163432) by [BlueSimplicity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSimplicity/pseuds/BlueSimplicity). 



> Warning of description of drug and alcohol abuse. It's more of a short mention, but better safe than sorry. And look at the warnings I put in the tags.

Steve was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, his gaze turned to the wall across from him, but his mind was far away.  
"Did you try out drugs at one time?"

  
_The last mission the Avengers were on, has been gone wrong, so terribly wrong. They should have helped to rescue civilians from some terrorists in the desert, just a simple in and out, but when they got there the terrorists were gone. Only 14 abused corpses left for them to bring the pieces back to their families._

  
"Stevie they wouldn't work on us anyway."

  
_It was a terrible sight. Tony had opened his visor and vomited on the dry sand. He wasn't the only one. Sam kept him company only moments later. All that Steve had felt at the sight was terrible numbness._

  
"I know, I know."

  
_The worst thing wasn't the corpses. It was the heartbreaking sight of the men and women recognising their relatives, blood draining from their faces, colour leaving their eyes. Only shallow figures were left to bury what they brought them._

  
He breathed through for a moment, getting his thoughts together, but he still wouldn't look at Bucky. "Don't you just want to forget sometimes? All of the terror?"  
Bucky didn't answer, just sat down next to Steve on the couch and put his right arm on Steve's shoulder. He squeezed it reassuringly.  
"You don't need drugs to forget it," he said quietly. "Just sample good memories, so the bad ones will fade until nothing's left."

 

*

 

Bucky hadn't really answered Steve's question. He had tried drugs at some point. Technically, they shouldn't work on them because the serum made their bodies work so fast, the drugs wouldn't even reach their destination. But maybe, if he used enough substances and fast enough, he could flee from his thoughts, his memories. Just for a moment. Relief found in dull emotions, even for only a few minutes. Maybe they could help him.  
He knew it could mean he lost the control over his body, but he'd give it up willingly. Not to some crazy, sadistic psychopaths, chained up on a table in a white lab.

  
The homeless shelter he stayed at this time was even smaller than the last ones. It meant less homeless and less personal, too. Less people to meet him and remember his face. And it also meant more junkies.  
He had tried to abuse alcohol, but even 19 bottles of cheap rum couldn't do anything but let him piss like a fat angel on an European fountain. He didn't even feel the light dizziness he remembered. (When was the last time he was drunk? At the beginning of his time at the front of the war? After their first encounter with the enemy, maybe? His memories were still too foggy.)  
To get the stuff was fairly easy. He still had more than enough money on him from the last Hydra safe house he had found (and burned to ashes). A pale, shaking man traded his set for a few hundred bucks - syringes and enough Ketamine to knock out an entire horse stable. So maybe, he could at least sleep one day without nightmares.

It was a bad idea. A very, _very_  bad idea.  
At least he didn't use it in the homeless shelter and waited until he was in an abandoned hunter's lodge. The little cabin was entirely made of wood, but it had seen better days. A shattered window, holes in the roof, the door hinges bent. But it was dry inside and the wind didn't reach him when he hang the door back in its place. And nobody would come looking for him here.

  
The bag on his back felt like it would weigh tons. Of course it wasn't heavy, but _T_ _he Man_  had left it for him, filled with clothes, money, food and a note with his phone number. No tracking devices or bugs, as usual. He had burned the number as soon as he saw it, no use in leaving any traces (and maybe he didn't want them to follow the trace to Steve Rogers). He had memorised the digits anyway, when he saw the piece of paper the first time. Maybe it'd be useful one day.  
Guilt was one of the few emotions he recognised instantly, it was a constant companion these days. Guilt for all the people he had killed, the families he had torn apart, the pain he had induced... It cut deep, so deep that his heart felt like bleeding all the time.  
And he felt guilt because Steve trusted him. Trusted him enough to leave these bags behind so he could care for himself. Didn't ask for anything in return. And now he was at the point of smashing this trust to pieces by harming himself, by-  
Stop.  
He didn't know Steve beyond those pictures from the Smithsonian and what he had learned about him after a thorough research. There were some memories, or dreams, but he couldn't trust them.  
He still didn't know why this man - Captain America, after all - chased after him, why he was so kind to him. He didn't understand the motives behind these actions.  
Whatever the reason, he wouldn't let somebody else control his actions. Ever. Again.

  
So he sat down on the tatty bed with the rotting sheets and pulled the hoodie over his head. He used his left arm to fill the syringe with the clear liquid from one of the vials and injected it in his flesh arm. He didn't need to look for a vene, he knew his body better than anything else.  
But beyond the pressure of added liquid, he felt nothing. Apparently it wasn't enough. The next vial was opened and emptied with quick, methodical movements, but still nothing. His mind felt on rage, but it wasn't because of the drug, only because of the lack of anything. A third and a fourth vial went into his body before he let go of this stupid idea. He felt anger taking over.  
Fucking Zola and his fucking serum!  
Fucking Hydra and their fucking brainwashing!  
Fucking Steve for letting him fall of this fucking train!  
Everything went black.

 

When he came back to his senses, he was panting. He hadn't been this out of breath since a few weeks ago, when the last episode striked him and he ran 39 miles from this city and this blond woman, who reminded him too much of a target.  
The inside of the lodge looked as if a terrible storm had hit it. (It had, kinda.) The desk and bed were shredded into pieces, he could see the chairs shattered outside of the broken windows, the metal sink hung slanted from the wall, the unmistakable imprint of a fist had made a big bump in it. He could see more than a few holes in the walls, but he didn't want to know if he had used his metal or flesh hand. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to look at his hands to see blood and splinter of wood stuck to it. He didn't need to look.

  
Ashamed of himself and weaker than before he grabbed his bag and left the lodge behind him. He never tried out drugs again.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wanted to write something funny, but my mind only gave me this thing...  
> Let me know what you think about it.  
> And since I don't have a beta yet, tell me if you see some mistakes ;)
> 
> P.S.: The only knowledge I have of using drugs is from some TV series, so correct me if you think I described something wrongly.


End file.
